


Ian Gallagher is a Prick

by inanatticinnovember



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: M/M, Smut, Tumblr Prompts, and foul language, yeah it's mostly just smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-26
Updated: 2014-04-26
Packaged: 2018-01-20 20:57:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,831
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1525433
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inanatticinnovember/pseuds/inanatticinnovember
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Well… okay, he’s only sort of a prick. But he also has a prick. And it’s a nice one. And Mickey really fucking likes pricks, alright? He’d probably never say it to your face and if he ever knew you found out he’d definitely fucking rip you a new one and you’d end up in Toronto without your left foot or your drivers license, but there’s no denying it. He fucking loves dick. Especially Ian Gallagher’s.</p><p>Sure, Ian’s a soulless carrot top with freckles that make it look like a leprechaun jizzed all over his face, but in a way his redheadedness is kind of hot. Not to mention he can fuck like a bull when he wants to and Mickey does not fuck around when it comes to getting pounded in the ass.</p><p>And okay, maybe right now he feels like getting pounded in the ass.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ian Gallagher is a Prick

_A prompt asking about the booty call in season one and if I could finish it. And here we are._

_So yeah, continuation of the scene S01E08_

_\----_

Ian Gallagher is a prick.

Well… okay, he’s only sort of a prick. But he also has a prick. And it’s a nice one. And Mickey really fucking likes pricks, alright? He’d probably never say it to your face and if he ever knew you found out he’d definitely fucking rip you a new one and you’d end up in Toronto without your left foot or your drivers license, but there’s no denying it. He fucking loves dick. Especially Ian Gallagher’s.

Sure, Ian’s a soulless carrot top with freckles that make it look like a leprechaun jizzed all over his face, but in a way his redheadedness is kind of hot. Not to mention he can fuck like a bull when he wants to and Mickey does not fuck around when it comes to getting pounded in the ass.

And okay, maybe right now he feels like getting pounded in the ass. Which is why he’s walking up to the Kash and Grab, wrapped in a scarf and jacket, trying to keep out the bitter fucking cold.

He pushes the door open, the bell ringing as he swivels around a lady who’s trying to leave. He spots Ian standing there behind the counter, staring at him with the same old deer in headlights look he always has. You could probably spook the kid with a goddamned paper towel roll if you wanted to.

"Y’got any slim jims in this shithole?" He asks, very aware of the fact that he’d half-way made a gay joke right there. He sweeps the store for anymore customers. As soon as the woman leaves, they’re alone; Kash isn’t anywhere in sight. They’re scott fucking free to do whatever they please.

Ian doesn’t say anything, Mickey watching as he circles the counter and slips past to the door. He pulls it shut and shoving the key in the lock, surprising Mickey a little. Mickey raises his brow, glad that Ian picked up on his request before Mickey had to do any  _real_  sort of asking. That would have been a bitch.

"Yeah, in the back room," Ian says nonchalantly as he slips by Mickey again, this time heading for storage. Mickey’s lips pull up in a smirk. His teeth dig into his bottom lip as he picks his feet up to follow, unwinding the scarf from his neck.

Ian disappears into the backroom and Mickey finds him already unbuckling his belt when he comes in. Mickey watches him steadily as he tosses the scarf to the floor and pulls at his jacket. He’s got color in his cheeks, and he’ll blame it on the cold, but that’s not entirely true.

"You gonna-"

"What? Yeah, yeah," Mickey starts, having been caught standing there, staring. He wasn’t fucking staring okay, he was just… fuck. He shrugs the coat off, and goes for his jeans, popping the button and pulling the fly in a moments notice. The jeans are a bit big on him and they fall easily around his ankles. Now the two of them are standing there in their boxers, looking at each other stupidly.

Mickey hates it, hates the fucking look in Ian’s eye. It must be a fucking Gallagher look- it’s slight but warm and there’s a snarky little twinkle in the corner and Mickey would bet you ten bucks that Lip Gallagher gave the same look to Karen Jackson. That family had something in their blood- look at Frank, six fucking kids for Christ sake.

Ian’s starting to look a little fucking lovey-dovey and Mickey jumps, making a beeline for the metal shelving. He doesn’t want to acknowledge the weird feeling in his chest Ian had given him there for a moment, and instead focuses on the raw coil in his gut. He pushes his boxers down and grabs onto the shelving, which shakes as he leans against it.

"You’re bottoming again?" Ian asks, getting a grunt from Mickey.

"I swear to fucking god Gallagher, if you don’t fucking get over here I’m gonna-"

"Alright, alright, I don’t need to know every numerous way you can disembowel me, Mickey," Ian says, and he still has that sixteen year old puppy dog whine in his voice. Mickey bows his head between his shoulders, his back muscles flexing beneath his shirt as he listens to Ian crossing the room. There’s the sound of rustling as Ian drops his own underwear and then a cold hand on Mickey’s lower back that makes him hiss a little. Ian pops open a condom with his teeth; the crumpling of the wrapper, the wet slide as it’s rolled on and then fingers slopping against lips and Mickey lifts his head. " _Gallagher_ , just fucking _go_ ,” he growls. Being bent over like this for too fucking long is making him both horny and a little fucking embarrassed, and on top of that his ass is getting cold. He doesn’t want nor need any prep.

Ian doesn’t say anything, and Mickey’s wondering how Ian could be both a Gallagher and be quiet  _at the same time_  but his thoughts kind of drop away as Ian does  _exactly_  what Mickey had told him to do.

Mickey sees stars for a moment, involuntarily letting out a choked sound, his head falling back between his shoulders. “ _Fuck_ ,” he gasps, his fingers gripping the metal harder. Ian pauses in carefulness, and it pisses Mickey off how fucking cautious the kid is. Mickey wants to be  _fucked_  not goddamned cared for. He’s not a bitch.

Mickey growls low in his throat and in one fluid movement, pushes himself back onto Ian, taking him completely, his ass slapping flush against Ian’s hips. “You need a lesson on how to fuck, Gallagher?”

Mickey asks, his voice breathy as he grinds himself back against Ian, hoping the kid would take the bait and just go already.

Ian mumbles a ‘no’ like it wasn’t a fucking  _rhetorical_  question, and (hallelujah) starts rocking. His hands fall to firmly hold Mickey’s hips, which are thin, but soft, with enough meat on them for Ian to grab. Mickey’s teeth dig sharply into his bottom lip and his forehead rests on the grated shelving, his knuckles turning white as he grips. The burn in his ass is tight for a good while, but Mickey pushes through it, and fucks himself back onto Ian’s cock, meeting Ian’s movements until Ian is finally fucking comfortable enough to take control of the situation like he fucking aught to.

Ian is as quiet as a church mouse, which makes Mickey very aware of the noises he’s making himself. Thick, throaty grunts that come from his chest as he takes it; grunts that turn into long, drawn out groans as soon as Ian starts to hit his prostate. It feels like fucking  _magic_  and he gasps the first time, his mouth falling open, a quick moan rolling off his tongue. It’s the only really audible sound Ian get’s out of him, but it’s enough for Ian to pick up the pace a bit and start  _really_  fucking him.

This is what Mickey came for; to get pummeled so hard his ass is bruised and he can’t fucking walk. It’s not gonna be like that because Ian Gallagher is a pussy, but it’s getting as close as Mickey is sure he can get it. Ian, seemingly always the gracious top, reaches under Mickey to grab his cock after a good while. It’s been bobbing against his belly for the last few minutes, straining tightly and the sudden friction of Ian’s well calloused hands is heavenly. Mickey just lets Ian go, his mouth still open in the stupid way he knows it always is when he gets fucked (he’s got the worst fucking orgasm face in the world and he knows it).

"God, fucking harder," Mickey gasps as he feels it coming, pushing himself backwards almost desperately. Everything is sweaty now and his hands are slipping. His ass is numb where Ian’s hipbones keep hitting it, and he’s fucking on fire. He almost can’t breathe, wanting to reach back and yank on Ian’s hips. "Goddammit Gallagher,  _harder_ ,” he growls that time and he’s so fucking grateful when Ian snaps his hips with the conviction of a fucking army general and then suddenly there’s hands in Mickey’s hair, fisting it and pulling hard, and it only takes one jerk of his head to get him to come rivers between his belly and the shelving.

Ian isn’t far behind, though Mickey congratulates him in his head for such a long haul. Mickey is coming down when there’s a sudden loss, everything getting cold when Ian isn’t bent over him. He takes a deep breath, listening to Ian shuck the condom, before he straightens up himself, clearing his throat. His heart is racing and his cheeks are hot again. He swipes a hand across his nose as he pulls his pants up, turning around to look at Gallagher.

Ian is doing the same thing, getting himself dressed again, pulling back on the flannel shirt he’d taken off and then buckling his belt. Mickey watches Ian out of the corner of his eye as he pulls on his coat and grabs his scarf off the floor.

"I gotta go," Mickey says as Ian looks up at him.

"No cuddling?" Ian asks, batting his eyelashes and giving Mickey that twinkle Gallagher look.

Mickey wrinkles his nose. “Real cute,” he snaps and turns out of the storage room. He wants to grab a cigarette but there aren’t any in his pocket so he snags a pack of Marlboros before Ian can get back out into the store. When he does come, he’s got a fucking smirk on his face and Mickey wants to punch it off him. There’s a small moment where the two of them are kind of looking at each other again and Ian seems like he’s going to take a step forward and fucking kiss him or something and

Mickey turns to walk towards the door to avoid the encounter all together. He didn’t need it. He got his fuck and that was it.

Ian is quick to beat him to the door, going around the counter and reaching it first, pushing it open. “So, guess this was like a booty call, huh?” He asks as he leans on the door to hold it open. The breeze feels good on their heated faces.

Mickey doesn’t even bother looking at him this time, not wanting to risk getting that fucking twinkle again. “Whatever, see ya,” he says, as he loops his scarf back around his head and heads down the street.

Ian Gallagher is a sarcastic, pain in the ass. And he’s a prick.

But Mickey will be coming back for more. Even despite that fucking Gallagher twinkle fruit loop shit.


End file.
